Alchemy Conference (16)
"Cough, cough!"
Just as he brought the glass to his lips, Cain choked and sneezed violently. The lukewarm liquid that hadn't quite made it down his throat sprayed out in a fine mist.
I pulled a handkerchief from my pocket and handed it to him. "Here."
Cain nodded briefly in thanks as he wiped his hands. Once he'd calmed down, he fixed me with a suspicious look. "So... did I hear that wrong?"
"No, you heard right. I want to do it with you, Cain. Sex."
"...What about your master? Ariel would never allow that."
I caught a glimmer of hope in Cain's words. Instead of saying he didn't want to, he'd dredged up a reason why it couldn't happen. That meant he wasn't opposed—just uneasy. And Terria had made it clear he didn't care who I spread my legs for.
Sex that Terria wanted so badly... What if I went ahead and did it first? How would he react? Would he panic? Get angry? Blush? Stay indifferent?
"I got permission. He said it's fine."
"Even so... that doesn't mean it's okay with me, does it?"
"Are you afraid of Ari—my master, Cain?"
"It's not about that..." Cain rubbed his forehead, looking troubled. I could guess what he was imagining. He was worried about straining his relationship with Ariel.
I needed to plant some certainty that nothing would happen to him.
"I've never slept with my master, not even once. He said today it doesn't matter who I fuck."
"......"
"He won't sleep with me in the future either. You know his personality, Cain. Unless I tell him, how would he ever find out?"
"True, but..." Cain still looked hesitant. His overly cautious nature was showing itself again. On the battlefield, that wariness had made him hesitate at what might have been a trap—and Fabian died because of it.
I considered poking at that trauma but held back. At this point, my pride was kicking in.
I took a sip of my drink. Borrowing the alcohol's gentle haze on my brain, I spoke a little boldly for a slave. "You want to do it too, don't you, Cain? Why did you tell me to dance, then? Why call me pretty earlier?"
"That was just... to say you didn't need to feel down because you're a beastkin."
"Really? Is that all it was?"
I gazed at him with pleading eyes. It was an instinctive move to stir his protective instincts. One thing I'd learned in this body: women—and women's bodies—are hypersensitive to others' gazes.
Cain's eyes on me held mostly pity and sympathy, like what he'd felt for my dead comrade who resembled me, for something lost. But there was a thread of desire woven in.
I latched onto that slender filament of feeling. "Well, if it's the alcohol clouding your judgment, I'd advise against it..."
"It's not that."
And whether it was this body or the booze, those gazes meant something after all. The dim lighting softly illuminating the dark room, the warm air, eyes loosened by drink—they softened the mood, drawing out sweet breaths.
I understood now why Clechia had emphasized the atmosphere.
"Then why do you want to do it with me?"
"...I'm not just throwing myself at anyone. It's because it's you. Better with someone I know..."
"That 'someone I know' could be a problem. You know that, right?"
"It's fine. And isn't it common to spend a night with someone you've locked eyes with? Or... do you hate me?"
Did Cain secretly crave platonic love? He was in his late thirties and unmarried, so maybe. But he wasn't a virgin.
With the thought of seducing a man for the first time, I loosened my top, shrugging my shoulders to bare my cleavage.
I didn't miss Cain's gaze snapping to my breasts, the sticky hunger in his eyes.
At some point, maneuvering this new body had lost its repulsion. It was like using something someone else bought you—a gift you didn't ask for but were fine with having, or not. Whatever; let it break.
If it meant seizing even one shred of control from Terria, I could do anything.
It probably wouldn't happen, but I wanted to see him flustered. An apologetic look, if possible. To confirm if he'd truly discarded his own body.
Cain eyed me with concern. "It's not that I hate you. But are you sure you won't regret it?"
"...Huh?"
Regret? I couldn't parse his meaning. What in our conversation warranted regret? Had he figured out I was Ariel?
Half-doubting, I asked, "Do you know I'm—not Terria?"
"Huh? What?"
But the words caught in my throat, dissolving. At the same instant, the slave brand flickered briefly.
I shrugged to cover my shoulder and smiled casually. "Nothing... hehe."
"Are you really okay?" Cain looked even more worried now.
Instead of answering, I rose from my chair and approached him slowly. From what I remembered last, Cain wasn't impotent. He had quite the impressive equipment.
Maybe actions would speak louder than words.
My slender fingers grasped his hand. It felt cool—maybe mine was hot, or his was just rough and chilled. His turquoise eyes darted about.
My chest burned like I'd stepped into a hot bath. I guided his yielding hand to my breast.
My body shivered at the sudden chill of his touch. As if entranced, I whispered in his ear. "Touch me however you want, Cain..."
I wished I was truly enchanted. That I could blame madness, say it was unavoidable.
Maybe I already was mad. Who wouldn't lose their mind through all this? Having your body stolen, gender flipped, status stripped, magic sealed by a collar, no one recognizing you because of dog-like commands—not even the one who should—and getting used by the slave bitch you'd owned, crawling on all fours like a dog, forced into fellatio, while the lunatic in your original body chokes you and announces he's off to fuck someone else.
Who wouldn't snap? I was lucky not to have full-blown psychosis.
As an alchemy major, admitting inner pain no antipsychotic could cure was tough. Let alone becoming living proof.
And now I was about to do drugs. Clechia always wore ecstasy during sex—a junkie's bliss, the world spinning before her eyes. Few times though they'd been.
Now I wondered: How good could it be? Good enough to wash away my depression?
If it was that potent a high, I wanted to try it once.
"Hngh..."
Cain's hand claimed the perky flesh straining against my thin clothes. I met his eyes with eager anticipation for the pleasure to come.
He hesitated at first, flustered, then kneaded my soft breasts with delicate precision, like shaping clay.
"This is your choice."
"Ahng...! Yes...!"
Cain whispered into my fluffy, pointed ears, now standing stiff. His warm breath and the vibration made my body quiver.
His large hands rubbed my milky breasts harder, unable to fully contain them. A chilling pleasure surged from my chest to my scalp, buckling my legs in an instant.
I shoved the table aside, spun his chair, and collapsed onto his lap. Cain wrapped an arm around my waist and began caressing me in earnest.
Buttons popped free effortlessly; my undergarments slipped away. In seconds, my pale upper body was exposed—breasts holding their perfect shape without a bra, tempting him.
He kneaded them roughly, like dough. Just from that, my body heated slowly, warming bit by bit.
"Hng, ngh... mmph, nngh... hngh, hng! Ahng...!"
My breasts deformed perfectly under his touch, optimized for it. Pleasure signals shot through me like electric shocks, making my body twitch.
This... I expected it, but it feels so good...
Should I stifle my moans out of shame? Nah, no need. I started this; I was prepared.
I let my raw, primal sounds escape unchecked.
"Is Terria on drugs or something?"
"No drugs... hngh! Ngh, ngh... hngh, hngh...!"
I leaned my head on his broad chest and shoulders—toned from melee combat, nearly twice my size. All I could do was bow my head and moan sweetly, like sugar-soaked fruit.
Cain pressed his face to my hair, inhaling deeply. I'd never worn perfume, but maybe I smelled nice.
Pleasure built steadily; my back arched, thrusting my breasts forward for easier access.
Aroused by my eagerness—more aggressive than him now—Cain shed his hesitation and let dirty words fly.
"Then why do you feel it so intensely?"
"I don't knooow... ahng! Ngh, ngh! Haaang...! Hngh!"
His callused, rough fingers flicked my pink nipples, sending a jolt of electricity piercing through me.
I didn't know. No clue. If just kneading my breasts felt this good, how amazing would sex be?
I seemed far more sensitive than my first orgasm in this body. Like Terria said, my breasts had been "developed"... No way. Cain was just better at this than him.
"Ah, ang! Ang, there... right there, feels good... hngh, ngh, ngh, hngh! Spin them there, yesss..."
Before I knew it, my thighs were soaked with arousal, staining his lap.
Cain circled my nipples, then pinched the hardened tips hard. Each time, I yowled like a cat in heat.
Our size difference was huge—probably Cain's height—so my feet dangled, body fully reliant on him.
I shouldn't... But the hazy pleasure felt so good; maybe nothing was truly off-limits.
Cain cupped my chin, tilting it up gently. I met his eyes—blue and wet—then realized his intent and turned away with a jerk.
I pressed a finger to his lips. "No kissing... no kisses..."
Not that it mattered now, but it was my last bastion, chosen on my terms.